


Andrew's Dance

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [33]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:25:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Andrew had tried to restrain what Caeide called his 'unbridled enthusiasm', he really had.  He had tried to be patient, using the time to learn more about Haven, more about his new family, and learning more about, well, a lot of things.  {"Boy, that library really helped!"}, and that thought had elicited a giggling spell from the young man that raised a few eyebrows around the tea table.  But the more Peter dithered around, the more difficult Andrew was finding it within himself to just sit back and wait.  Finally he decided he just needed to take matters into his own hands, so to speak, with a little help from the ladies.  Just how that ended up with Peter and Caeide contemplating the food supply?  Well, for Peter, it included a sincere conviction that "those mushrooms musta gone bad!", and from Caeide?  She just KNEW she was going to have to increase the standing bourbon order!  After all, a good jolt of bourbon was becoming her own version of "BLOODY 'ELL, ANDREW!"





	Andrew's Dance

**Author's Note:**

> A goodly display of fireworks and explosions. Well, what did you expect, what with Andrew's unbridled enthusiasm? Suggestive but not graphic.

Andrew was settling in well, thought Caeide, finding his footing. They'd helped him set up his own suite of rooms, next to Marisol's, and across the hallway from Peter's; they'd made sure it was every bit as nice as their own quarters, with his own things around him, supplemented with good pieces from their own supply, and he seemed happy. Charlie and Lucy had been accepted by the other household pets, Estelle seemed enamoured with Charlie even, following him around, curling around him when they slept, which was an odd sight since she was so huge in comparison, though the cats just seemed calmly accepting of the need to share the territory, and all was right with their world - well, almost.

The only thing not yet resolved, she though, was evidenced by the way Andrew and Peter were dancing around each other. It was rather sweet, of course, but really? If anything, it seemed Peter got more and more shy of making a move, as the days went by, and Andrew was starting to look a little impatient. She noticed him sidling over to Maude more than once, talking with her earnestly, very serious, but sometimes blushing when she replied. After one such episode, she'd looked an inquiry at Maude, who'd said, "well, the lad has some questions; I may not be able to answer them all, but I can help a bit. Better of course if Peter'd stop acting like a bashful girl and just get on with it, but the lad always did have to do things in his own good time." Caeide had more than a little experience with that, and could only agree, ruefully, having more than a little sympathy for Andrew's plight.

It was only when she caught sight of Andrew leaving Marisol's room one afternoon that she realized just how impatient he'd become; Marisol had made light of it, "just a bit to tide him over til Peter gets past whatever bee has nestled in his bonnet, dearie, nothing more. Lad's likely to explode, otherwise, he's that wound up." She'd said with a wide grin, "not sure Peter really knows what he's got there. Actually, I was rather impressed," though she didn't elaborate, except to give a huge grin and a chuckle.

On the morning Andrew knocked on the office door, asking if she could help him with something, she decided that Marisol had the right of it, well enough. Turned out Andrew had a plan. No, something like this could not be rightly called a plan; THIS was a PLAN!

He brought with him the large portfolio from the library; she'd known it was there along with a few other of the more exotic texts, one of which he had also brought with him. There were also quite a few 'trinkets' in a small cabinet in there, several of which she never had been able to figure out what they were intended for, though some of the others were pretty obvious, and some she thought she could guess. Seemingly he hadn't discovered those yet, or at least he hadn't bothered to bring them with him. Haven had been around for a long, long time, and the many previous owners had had wide and varied interests.

Andrew was shy about saying the words, probably not even knowing many of them, (well, neither did Caeide in many cases) but very good at pointing earnestly, once they'd decided between the two of them that it would simplify her understanding, or at least limit her confusion, if he would point only to whichever figure was to represent himself.

Eyes widening, Caeide tried to keep a serious look on her face as she comprehended what he had in mind, taking into account the sheer number of bookmarks in the portfolio and in the text. Andrew's plan would be, at the least, challenging, no, make that CHALLENGING! She suggested he might want to break this down into a couple, maybe several, sessions, but he was determined on following his plan.

She was fighting to keep a straight face, but it was very difficult when she imagined the expression on Peter's face. HE was trying to figure out how to build his courage to bring Andrew to the point of a nice gentle round of kissing and perhaps working him up to a little light petting, bringing them back perhaps to the point they'd been at before; Andrew was working on THIS!

Gently, cautiously, she explained once again that it might be best to sort of work his way up to this plan. She knew that Peter hadn't done any more than maybe kiss Andrew, at least here at Haven, and even that seemed more to her an affectionate type of kiss rather than passionate. Well, except for those dreams that sometimes she almost believed she had imagined

Maybe Andrew could start with exchanging a few kisses and light caresses? she suggested. Of course, that way it could take a long time to work his way up to The Plan, which Caeide thought with amazement, was truly masterful! SHE would never have thought of following page 37 with page 16, and then moving to that paragraph in the middle of that smaller book, and then over to page 87 of the illustrations again. And that was just part of it!, she thought, wanting to giggle hysterically. Well, she'd admit this wasn't her area of expertise, but neither was it supposed to be Andrew's! She was starting to suspect some strong natural talent here!

Sensing the enthusiasm with which Andrew approached any new challenge, and knowing from Peter's tales of Stalag 13 that the young man's enthusiasm was often better served by being slightly curbed, she felt she should explain the rules as she had learned them in her Rites and Customs class when she was eleven: she remembered the essentials, she thought. She gave him a basic anatomy lesson, just a few details he might not be aware of, that could mean the difference between a pleasantly memorable night and an uncomfortable one.

Then she told him that while Peter didn't need to know the exact details of the dance down to every half-step, necessarily, he had to be given the right to refuse the general outline, which needed to be kept simple - there could be no major surprises!; he had to be given a 'safe word' to put a stop to the dance at any time, and Andrew had to agree to immediately abide by that, no matter what; and no fair changing the rules mid-dance.

{"Good grief, to be giving Andrew Carter, of all people, such instruction!"} If she could have blushed, she would have, but she was too enthralled with the sight of Andrew detailing his plan to do so. Andrew nodded his head, earnestly agreeing with all she told him; he was too engaged in the planning process to even consider blushing.

Thinking it over, while she went to fetch a pot of coffee (she would have preferred a good shot of bourbon by now, actually, no matter how early in the day it was!), he came up with the basic outline he would present to Peter, and went over it with her when she returned:  
1) *He, Andrew, was to be totally in charge for the night.* Caeide had never considered Andrew the 'want to be in charge' type; obviously she'd been mistaken, she though in amazement.  
2) *Peter would be expected to, when prompted, give a verbal description of what was happening, what he was experiencing, feeling physically and otherwise.* Caeide's mind skittered sideways as she considered that. {"Good luck with that, Andrew!"} Peter was not a great verbalist in bed at the best of times, she knew from experience, though certainly not lacking in any other way, and she could pinpoint several places along Andrew's route where Peter would likely have a hard time remembering his own name, much less trying to give any credible description of what was happening, or maybe even speak at all. She gave a quick thought to a childhood dinnertime rule and giggled to herself.  
3) *Caeide was to be present, probably pretty much as an onlooker, though she'd be close enough so that Andrew might "ask for your help, now and then".* {"WHAT???"} Her main responsibility would be to make sure, as Andrew put it, quite seriously, "things don't get out of hand." Caeide's lips trembled uncontrollably as she thought to herself, {"I'm pretty sure things are ALREADY out of hand"} thinking about the choreography Andrew had designed. She'd have to remember to schedule a day, maybe two, of light chores for the lads afterwards!

"Well, dear, it's your dance, yours and Peters. I just really recommend at least a bit of a build up, you might say, before you spring this on him."

That was what had helped Andrew with the final planning, that she'd called it a dance, though he was beginning to also think of it as a symphony. Now, he could see, there had to be a certain flow between the different things he had in mind, otherwise it was awkward and you broke the mood, the rhythm. And she was right, they didn't just start with the main part of the symphony, they had the tuning up, the overture, the intermission, the finale, all that stuff. Okay, he'd work on fine tuning that some more, he thought with a delighted grin.

That grin was starting to worry Caeide somewhat.

Later, he'd bring the portfolio back to Caeide and run thru the whole thing, see what she thought. And he needed to have her look at what he'd found in that cabinet, just so he could be sure he was guessing right about what the purpose of those hinged carved rings and that little feathery thing. {"Boy, this is really kinda fun!"} Any of the team from Stalag 13 would have recognized that look of unbridled enthusiasm, and taken a few steps backwards, just in case something blew up.

Sitting having tea a little later, (yes, she'd added a good shot of bourbon; no, she didn't feel in the least bit guilty, no matter how early it was; she felt she'd more than earned it!) replaying the conversation in her mind she thought along similar lines, {"Andrew is a little like his homemade explosives. Looks harmless enough, til BOOM! Looks like he's going to liven things up around here rather more than we'd expected,"} and she grinned to herself.

 

Two weeks later, Maude and Marisol were discussing the day's plans as they sat down to breakfast. Andrew had bounded in a few minutes ago to join them at the table, perky, bright-eyed, chattering away a mile a minute, as usual. Peter, still wide eyed and a tad skittish from the night before, was leaning with his back up against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee, taking repeated quick, incredulous side glances over at Andrew, and occasionally at Caeide.

"No, thanks, Maudie, I'm not that 'ungry this morning, and I want to get a start on those new maps. I'll see you later," as he made his way back up to the office. Caeide noticed he was not moving with quite his usual grace.

After the others cleared out, headed for their morning's work, she tarried, fixed a sandwich and cup of tea for him, taking it to the office where he was working, marking out boundaries on the map pinned to the wall. She put the meal on the narrow ledge in front of him; he glared at her as she tried to keep a straight face.

"Best eat, love. Have a feeling you're going to need to keep up your strength."

"I should ruddy well beat both of you with a ruddy big stick, I should!" as she gave way, leaning into him, forehead against his chest, arms loosely around his neck, giggling helplessly.

"Oh, we've set the cat amongst the pigeons for sure; who'd have ever guessed!" he groaned, a wide smile on his face now, a chuckle escaping him, as his arms encircled her waist and drew her near. {And as one of the pigeons, I couldn't be 'appier!"}  


The Dance - Peter's POV:

Andrew had come up to him after dinner, all solemn and serious, asking to talk to him. He'd followed after, as Andrew had turned and went up to the stairs to stand at the door to Peter's room til Peter opened it for him. That was one of the things at Haven; they respected each other's privacy, didn't go barging in unless asked. Once inside, Andrew hesitated and then just blurted it out, "there's something I want to do, and I'd really like it if you said Yes, but if you don't want to, I understand, but I'd really really like it if . . . ." That was the thing with Andrew, he'd get on a loop and if you didn't cut in, he'd tie the both of you in knots.

"Slow down, Andrew, breathe. Just what are you going on about, now?"

As Andrew explained, earnestly looking up at him, Peter was stunned, and just a bit uneasy. Though, really, no reason to be uneasy, not with his Andrew; he just hadn't thought Andrew would be the one to make the first move, not when Peter was having such a time figuring how to introduce the subject.

Well, okay, not the first move, not really. There'd been that spot of sweet kisses exchanged when he'd been showing Andrew the old homestead, and then repeated at various places and intervals since then. And, well, the horse barn had seen some slightly warm activity, but nothing too intense, since anyone could have walked in, the barn being so close to the house and all; that had been pleasant, but hardly satisfying, leaving both of them in a bit of a state. But still, this could be considered the first move of serious intent.

"So, Caeide said I have to tell you what I have in mind, in general, cause it's something you'd have to agree on first, and . . ."

"Wait! You discussed this with Caeide?" Peter said, stunned, turning pink.

"Well, sure. Well, first I talked a bit to Maude, and then with Marisol, but they both thought Caeide'd be the one to really help me," Andrew replied, his trusting face showing he fully expected Peter to understand. Peter had now turned from pink to red

{"All three of them? 'e's discussed this with all three of them?? Oh my word! Facing them at the breakfast table is going to be interesting, to say the least!"}

"So, it's that you're to be leading the way, is that it?" he said, slowly, trying to wrap his mind around this bizarre conversation.

"Well, actually it's that I'm to be in charge," Andrew hastened to clarify, speaking rapidly "and there has to be what she calls a 'safe word' that means everything has to stop. Something you'd not usually say in a conversation, you know, so you don't say it accidentally not really meaning it. So, not 'Stop' or 'Enough' or anything like that, she said, that you might say and not really mean, throwing everything off balance. Maybe something like, oh, like 'starkle'. That's not something you'd usually say, right?"

Peter was feeling a bit like Alice dropped down the rabbit hole. "No, Andrew, I can't 'onestly say that I've ever used that in a conversation that I can recall."

"Okay, then the 'safe word' is 'starkle'," Andrew said, with a nod of great satisfaction at getting that settled. Peter was still so bemused by the choice of the word 'starkle' that it slipped past him that he might better be wondering why he'd need a 'safe word' in the first place, though that thought would certainly cross his mind while he was waiting for Andrew later. The alternative words Andrew had mentioned, 'Stop' or 'Enough' would make an uneasy appearance in his mind then as well, wondering at why Caeide and Andrew thought he might use them 'not really meaning them' and so needed to be dissuaded from using them as his 'safe word'.

"Alright," slowly, wondering if he was making a really big mistake, "for tonight, you're in charge then." 

Andrew grinned up at him enthusiastically, "then the rest of it is,"

{"REST OF IT? There's more??"}

"if I ask you to, you tell Caeide what's happening, I mean, right then, cause Caeide'll be right there, and . . ."

Peter interrupted with a shake of his head, "WAIT! WHAT? Caeide'll be where?"

"Well, I asked her to stay with us, just to keep an eye on things and make sure I'm not making any mistakes, or anything. She seemed a little surprised, but said if you agreed, she would."

Peter now knew those mushrooms at dinner must have been off; no way was this happening. He tried to stop himself, he really did, he knew better than to ask, but he just had to, in spite of his better judgement.

"If Caeide'll be there, why would I be needin' to tell her what's 'appening? Will she 'ave a blindfold on or something?" With Andrew you just never knew where his active mind would lead him; {"you should have remembered that, Peter!"}, he scolded himself!

"Oh, no, I just think I'd like to hear you describing things, you know. Well, you have such a really fun way of saying things, and you probably know all the right words and I don't really, not yet," with another of those perky grins that Peter was starting to find increasingly disturbing.

"Bloody 'ell, Andrew, I've never needed any words! And surely you know the basic one or two that you might need to know!" {"Now I know for sure those mushrooms were gone bad!"}

He had Andrew wait right there, while he made his way thru the interconnecting doors thru the office into Caeide's quarters, tapping at her door. She had been waiting, in great anticipation, for his visit. The sight of his face, his eyes wide with shock, almost sent her over the edge into wild laughter.

"You agreed to BE THERE?"

"Well, he's a little worried he might get things wrong or forget something, so I told him I'd be willing if it would make him feel better, as long as you were alright with it," she said with a solemn face.

"Well, just how wrong could 'e be getting it??! Ain't rocket science, though 'e'd probably be pretty good at that, if you didn't mind the occasional explosion," losing his train of thought for the moment. "And what's to forget?" his voice rising a notch.

"Now, love, you know Andrew, he just frets sometimes," she reassured him, maintaining control of her face with great difficulty.

"And you are really alright with this?"

"For the two of you, of course, dear."

He nodded, as if in a daze, turned and went back thru the office and into his room.

She collapsed on her bed, hiding her face while she laughed helplessly but soundlessly. Andrew had promised he'd give Peter enough of an outline that he wouldn't be walking in blind, she'd insisted on that. Otherwise it wouldn't be right, or fair, and Peter had to be giving clear consent to Andrew's Dance, or she'd put a stop to the whole thing. But somehow, she still felt her Brit was in for a wild night well beyond his imagining, and she wished him joy of it; he had certainly waited long enough, they both had, bless them.

 

Peter blinked his eyes at the early morning light shining in the window to his right. He started to stretch, then halted suddenly as his body, even before his mind, brought the hazy memory of last night quickly to the forefront.

Eyes opening wide, he looked down at the warm body laying in his arms, soft brown hair mussed and damp, breathing soft and even. Hesitantly he dropped a soft kiss on the head lying at his throat, "Andrew, luv?" {"Are you my Andrew, and who was that last night??"}

"Morning, Peter," he heard in a sleepy and contented voice, his Andrew for sure.

He pulled him toward him tightly, in a fierce hug, "I'm glad you stayed; it's good waking up like this."

"Well," the sleepy response came, "I wasn't sure, but Caeide said it'd be much better if I stayed; that it could be lonely to wake up alone, almost like it hadn't been real, hadn't been us. And I really didn't want to leave anyway; it feels really good being all close like this." They talked a little more, then with a gentle kiss, Peter released him to go back to his own room and get ready for the day.

He relaxed back onto the pillows, letting his mind drift back over the night, remarking out loud, "still think those mushrooms had turned, had to have 'allucinated at least 'alf of that, if not more!" As he pulled himself out of bed, slowly, taking cautious inventory, he thought incredulously, {"then again, maybe not!"}

As he was washing up and getting dressed, Peter thought about what Caeide had told Andrew, and he wondered, no, he didn't wonder, he remembered quite well, how many times he'd just gotten up and left. How many times, in his imagination, it hadn't been the red haired woman he'd been holding in his arms, but quite a different form, different eyes he'd been looking into, and his heart faltered at the knowledge, and his new understanding of the depths of her love for him that she'd known and could accept that, could now willingly and gladly accept Andrew as part of their lives.

He turned his eyes toward the doorway to the office, made his way thru it and tapped at her door. At her 'come in', he walked in and without hesitation took her into his arms, holding her close.

"Thank you," he murmured against her hair.

"You're most welcome, love. All is good?"

"Yes, all is good."

From now on, when he spent time with Andrew, he knew he'd make sure he was focused just on Andrew, and they'd not part til the morning. And from now on, when he was with his Caeide, he'd do the same. {"Unless it's the three of us together, of course,"} he grinned in anticipation. Yes, he could see that happening, he could.


End file.
